Risk vs. Reward

	The following is a tale taking place in the dangerous yet thrilling wilderness where anything can happen.  It is the tale of one man’s attempt to reach fame and riches.  It is the tale of the playerkiller Sibwara.
	Sibwara wandered the barren, blackened landscape searching for someone to kill.  Anyone would do, for he lusted for battle.  He was a master of one-on-one fighting, killing mages, archers, and swordsmen.  It wasn’t always that way, though…  
      Sibwara was once a normal citizen; he trained his skills in a variety of locations and was admitted to every guild in the land.  He went on quests for all manner of people, from farmers and monks to kings and champions, until there were no quests left to be done.  He had explored the land and knew it well.  But, Sibwara had tired of the unchanging world.  There were of course, rumors of an ever expanding realm, filled with rewards beyond his wildest dreams, whose entrance was granted by a mere five pieces of paper currency called dollars, but the only money ever to touch his pocket was round, glinting gold known throughout the land as GP.  It was at that point that he decided to take the ultimate risk – becoming a playerkiller.
      As he wandered through the forest of leafless trees, Sibwara thought he saw two white dots of people on the horizon.  He drew his sword, a vicious rune scimitar.  He started at a run to attack the leader of the two.  When he got closer, he realized they were both about ten combat levels lower.  “Easy,” Sibwara muttered.  When he reached the two warriors, something unexpected happened.  There were more playerkillers hiding in the same spot as the second warrior, hiding their numbers!  It was now a five-on-one battle, and Sibwara saw no hope but escape.
      Luckily, Sibwara was an experienced playerkiller, and walked the wilderness to save his energy for confrontations.  He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, sweat creasing his brow.  He ran and ran past demons, black knights, and a graveyard until he reached the area known as “Level 20 Wilderness.”  Sibwara pulled out his trusty law rune and recalled a spell taught to him by a mighty wizard.  In a flash of blue, Sibwara disappeared.
      Sibwara had successfully teleported to Varrock.  He couldn’t believe his luck, for as yet he had never died in the wilderness.  That was probably the closest time he had come to death.  “What happened…” Sibwara wondered too himself.  From the safety of the Varrock monastery, he recalled the name of one of the warriors and sent them a private message.  The warrior said to him:  “We are a clan.  We travel in a pack and team kill anyone who comes near.  Come back to the wilderness so we can kill you, Noob!”  Immature taunts didn’t bother Sibwara; he knew he couldn’t go back into the wilderness. Yet.
      I need to make a clan, Sibwara thought to himself.  He had enough influence, by level alone, but he went to the bank anyway and pulled out his trusty set of full rune and his rare and valuable white party hat, to make himself appear a powerful leader.  He equipped his armor (and white party hat), and entered the Varrock square, where many an adventurer gathered to trade items.  Sibwara shouted, “Flash1:wave:Recruiting for my clan!  Private message me to join!”  The days to follow went on in a similar fashion. Sibwara recruited in the Falador Park, a popular site of drop parties, the Lumbridge castle entrance, where people were sent at death, Karamja, home of the mightiest fisherman and Lesser-killers, and countless banks around Runescape, until he had a hardy group of fighters thirsting for kills.
      Sibwara entered the wilderness with the seven available members in his clan.  They walked out towards the ruins said to be filled with great demons, and as luck would have it, he came upon the clan that had killed him earlier.  “Peace,” the clan leader said in desperation.  Sibwara’s response was to swing his sword and hit a mighty 18 on the clan leader.  As if in a wave, the other members of Sibwara’s clan relentlessly attacked the rest.  The enemy clan leader fell at Sibwara’s blade, and he looked through the mass of his green allies for his white enemies.  His new target was a mage attacking his group on the outskirts.  Sibwara quickly prayed a prayer to protect him from magic, and rushed at the mage with an indiscernible battle cry.  The mage tried to attack him, but couldn’t penetrate the magical field his prayer had created.  Sibwara suffered minor hits of 1s and 2s and defeated the mage.  By this time, the clan was finishing off the last of their foes.  Sibwara had killed the most powerful, and his prize was a set of full adamantine armor and three hundred death runes.  He equipped the shining coat of green armor and pocketed the runes, not giving any to his clan.  They can get their own rewards, Sibwara thought.
      As they traveled deeper into the wilderness, they reached the fence that was said could only be crossed in the rumored world mentioned earlier.  Sibwara wasn’t sure where to go next, but an option soon appeared to him.  He saw out of the corner of his eye a group of white dots.  He shouted a cry of attack to his clan.  It was a clan war.  They were a somewhat comical group of level 30s, a true group of noobs.  They rushed out to meet the enemies, but to their surprise, the others didn’t draw swords, instead they drew staffs and bows, and Sibwara had a bad feeling in his gut.  Adamantine arrows whizzed through the air, coupled with explosions from deadly fire blasts.  Sibwara’s companions fell quickly, without a chance to lay a hand on the misleading level 30s.  Sibwara again was forced to run, running east towards an area with more honor, where only one-on-one fights were allowed.  He reached that area and took on the mages and archers one at a time, eating swordfish to recharge his health as he fought.  Their numbers were just too many, and Sibwara’s prayers of protection were failing.  He realized defeat was imminent, and escaped back to level 20 wilderness to teleport back out.
      Another close call… What happened this time? Sibwara thought to himself.  He sent out another private message.  It turned out they were a powerful group of archers and mages called pures.  Their levels hid their true power, and they could easily kill players with more than twice their level of combat experience.  My clan needs some of these “pures.”
      Sibwara was successful in recruiting a group of pures.  Now his clan was unstoppable.  They patrolled the wilderness, defeating everyone they met.  Whenever adventurers saw people approaching with the tell-tale sign of playerkillers above their heads, they ran.  Sibwara’s clan had become feared throughout the wilderness.  Everything looked like it was going well for the playerkiller Sibwara.
      Everything was not all well, though.  His clan members were talking of mutiny behind Sibwara’s back.  The clan’s strongest archer, Quickbeam, came up with a plan.  He invited Sibwara on a small group pking trip, with their best mage, Elcroy, and their best swordsmen, next to Sibwara of course, Cursed Wave.  Sibwara decided to bring all of his best armor, even his white party hat, for he had become arrogant.  They entered the Wilderness in the one-on-one fighting area, in hopes to draw someone to an area where teaming was permitted.  Sibwara saw a mid-level player that he had to attack.  They were carrying a rune weapon, which brought in a hefty price of GP.  He ran after them, and they ran and ran, but to no avail.  Sibwara slayed him just as they reached the team fighting area.  But alas, the player didn’t have the skull of a pker above his head, so he kept his rune weapon.
      Quickbeam’s plan was falling into place.  Sibwara was now out of energy, making escape impossible.  He drew his maple longbow, nocked three adamantine arrows, and drew back the flax string.  Elcroy prepared his staff of fire and drew his supply of air runes and death runes from the folds of his blue robe.  Cursed wave unsheathed his mighty rune two-handed sword.  The three approached Sibwara, who was still sifting through the previously killed adventurer’s lost items.  Quickbeam loosed his arrows, catching Sibwara off guard.  Elcroy unleashed a cycle of devastating fire blasts, and Cursed Wave charged and slashed with his giant sword.  Sibwara had no idea what to do.  He was passed level 20 wilderness, he couldn’t run, and he didn’t have a prayer to protect against all three of their attacks.  Sibwara fought as best he could, but he didn’t stand a chance.  Sibwara was slain, and everything went dark.
      He awoke in front of the Lumbridge Castle, with nothing but the clothes on his back.  His best armor, his money, his weapon, and his party hat, as well as his power and influence, were lost.  He became a smudge on the history of Runescape, destined to be just another adventurer seeking reward.